The Wraps On His Wrists
by If-I-Were-A-Wolf
Summary: What's under those wraps on Phil's wrists? Johnny knows. CM Punk/John Morrison Slash


**Ooookay. Obviously this is based off the storyline with Chris and Punk. But I put my own, depressing twist on it. This is more focused on Phil than Johnny, just warning you. But both are important to the story. This isn't my best but I tried, and I liked the concept. So I hope you like.**

**Enjoy my loves!**

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><p>John shook his head as he changed the wraps on Phil's wrists.<p>

They'd been together for a long time now. And they already knew everything about each other. Phil was such a happy person. He was funny, and childlike. He always made Johnny laugh. They amused each other. They were so in love, it scared them. Like horny, high-school teenagers. But more serious about each other. Phil had helped John grow up, and be more responsible. He quit his drinking habit before it got too out of control. He had Phil to thank for that.

And John cared for Phil. He knew that even though Phil was such a happy person, he had a dark past. Phil never went into specifics, and they rarely discussed it. But John knew there was a reason why there were slits on Phil's wrist. Phil was the last person John expected to do something like that. But John learned to never judge. And he was the always the one to change and tend to the wraps around Phil's wrists. The wraps were iconic to the WWE universe. Kids loved them. But they were there for darker reasons.

"Phil, you should get help. You can't keep doing this." John said lowly. They were in the locker room, in the corner. John usually went to Phil's shows, traveling with him. He was planning to make his return soon. And Phil liked having his colorful lover around.

Phil chuckled. He took things so lightheartedly, it scared John sometimes. "If you're implying that I should go to a mental hospital, that's not happening. I don't need it. I'm still alive." He said, shrugging.

John rolled his eyes. "Thank god." He murmured, continuing on Phil's wraps. "I threw away all your razors. Where'd you get this one anyway?"

"Your bag." Phil answered, biting his lip nervously.

John groaned in frustration. "Phil! I'm gonna have to lock my stuff if you keep doing that!"

Phil sighed. "I'm sorry, baby. Can we discuss this later? My match is coming up next. Stop being so serious." He said, and pouted at John.

"Oh don't pout... Ugh, alright alright." He said and kissed Phil's lips, biting his lover's lip ring.

Phil smiled. "Careful there." He murmured.

John pulled away and smirked. "When have I ever been careful? You love when I bite." He chuckled and kissed him again. Phil was an expert at getting John away from the topic of his... problem.

"That I do. You little vampire." Phil laughed.

"You're so corny." John said as he drew the Xes on the backs of Phil's hands. He held Phil's wrists and kissed them both. "Be careful. Now go get 'em." He said softly.

"Don't I always?" Phil grinned as he stood up.

John slapped Phil's ass. "Go!" He laughed.

Phil squeaked and held his hands up. "I'm going, I'm going." He chuckled and walked out of the locker room, throwing his title over his shoulder.

He went out and wrestled his match like always. He was his usual, charismatic self. Pleasing the crowd, acting like a lovable jerk. He always wrestled better when he knew his lover was watching. It made him want to please his lover by winning, so he seemed more superior and strong. Phil may seem careless and free, but on the inside he was striving to impress. And to be John's superman. That's all he really wanted.

John smiled as he watched Phil's match. He knew his lover would win. He remembered when they were both fresh meat in the business. He kind of missed those days. But they were both healthier now... somewhat. John shook his head and watched the match.

Phil won, and he celebrated in the ring, though he was sweaty and tired and he just wanted to sleep with John in his arms. He frowned when Chris Jericho came onto the titron.

At first, Phil was annoyed. He rolled his eyes and mimicked Chris, not taking him serious. But the more that blond bastard spoke, the more it got to Phil. His father... the alcohol... the nightmares. It was coming back, and it was hitting him hard. Chris brought up that Phil's father terrorized him as a child. Chris didn't understand how dead on he was. This wasn't scheduled to happen. Phil didn't know how Chris dug up this information. Or why he was exposing it to the entire world. But it wasn't his business to tell.

Phil closed his eyes as Chris went on. _Shut. Up. _Phil wanted to scream. No, he didn't want to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to break down. Hit something. Flashes of his father beating him ran through Phil's mind. He could remember his father screaming drunken slurs at Phil. His mother had left Phil when he was a toddler. His sister was a druggy in rehab. He had no one but John and John's family.

"No, no." Phil murmured, his hand over his eyes. "Stop it..." He whispered. He wanted to plead with Chris to stop talking. Stop reminding him. Just shut the fuck up.

He was frustrated. He felt hurt. He felt embarrassed. He felt pissed. Chris had no right! No _fucking_ right!

Everything Chris said was striking Phil right to the heart. He had tattoos, sleeved arms, as a way to hide. And a way to show how proud he was to be straightedge. To remind him why he chose that lifestyle in the first place. He took away the pain of what his father did by scarring his wrists. But one of the sole reasons that Phil was straightedge, was because he would die before he ended up like his father. He would not hurt John, like his father hurt him. John was the only reason why he was alive right now. Since he met the man, John was his reason.

John was watching the scene with wide eyes. He wanted to slaughter Chris. But _now_ he knew the full story. He knew why Phil was the way he was. And he wanted to murdered the person who hurt Phil. If he ever met Phil's father, the fucker would be dead on the spot.

Phil was always such a... outgoing and happy person. John loathed seeing him so pained. So angry and distraught. It pissed John off. It made him want to rip Chris's throat out. And want to kill Phil's piece of shit of a father.

Phil walked quickly backstage, ignoring everyone. He violently pushed people and objects out the way. He was distraught. He was scared. And he wanted to cry. He wanted to break down. Punch someone. Hurt himself. But he forced himself to keep all the tears and anger inside, which hurt his throat and chest. He held his breath to keep from sobbing and screaming as he passed John, heading into the bathroom.

John quickly followed him. "Phil!" He called and went into the bathroom, grabbing Phil's arm and turning him around.

Phil didn't struggle against John and just looked at him, his blue eyes misty and his face flushed. His was biting his lip hard to keep himself from letting go hysterically. He felt like boy again. The young schoolboy who was teased at Catholic school, then went home, only to be degraded and abused by his drunken father. The memories were coming back to him, and John could see it.

John pulled Phil into his arms and held him tight. "Baby, baby..." He whispered, Phil's face buried in his neck. He stroked hair. "Let it out."

And Phil couldn't help but obey. Tears slowly started to leak and soak John's shirt. His shoulders shook and soon, Phil was sobbing out his anguish. He screamed, punching the wall behind John as he clung to his love. John's heart broke for his baby. John had his own share of problems. But he recognized them, accepted them, and got over them. Phil, however, kept it all in. Phil was a strong person, and carried this with him, never telling a soul. He had no one to tell. He never told John the severity of what happened to him as a kid. Now John knew. Phil was embarrassed.

John sat them down on the floor and he held Phil tighter. John never felt this way before. He never wanted to protect someone so much in his life. To make someone better. But he wanted to takeaway Phil's pain. His anger. He wanted his Phil back. The one who didn't care what people thought. The one who was strong and proud of who he was. He'd take Phil's pain and live through it for him if he could.

Phil unraveled and fell apart in John's arms. They sat there, Phil's pain the only sound in the room. The floor was filthy but John didn't care at the moment.

"Phil..." John said quietly, when Phil's sobs and tearful growls of anger quieted. "Phil look at me." He said, wiping away the tears on Phil's face.

The tattooed man looked at John, his face tired and worn.

"Why didn't you tell me?" John whispered, gently holding Phil's wrists in his hands.

"How the fuck could I, Johnny?" He whispered. "How can I look at you and tell you how pathetic I was, when you look at me the way you do?" He asked.

John squeezed his hands. "What do you mean?"

Phil scoffed. "What do I mean? I just... wanna be your hero, John. I wanna be your Superman. Your dark night. Whatever cheesy thing you wanna call me. I just wanted to be someone you can lean on. Someone who's stong and can take on any problem that comes your way. How can I be that man for you if I told you that my father destroyed me? That he drank, and those cuts on my wrist are the result? How can I fucking do it, John?" He said louder, frustrated.

"Oh god, Phil..." John whispered, shaking his head and looking down. "Phil, I don't need you to be a hero. I don't need you to be larger than life, or the strongest man. Or the biggest man. I need you to be Phil. I need you to be my lover. My partner in crime." He chuckled sadly. "The man I fell in love with. Remember?" He whispered, stroking Phil's hair.

Phil looked down, John's words calming his erratic heart so he could breathe normally again. "I do... I just.. Look at me. I'm sobbing on a bathroom floor because Chris Jericho brought up some pieces of my past." He growled.

"We all have a past, baby. It's okay to cry. It's okay to feel hurt. Stop trying to be indestructible and stop putting up happy facades when you're down. Can we work on that?" He asked, smiling sadly and kissing Phil's head.

Phil nodded, wiping at his eyes. "It might be easier than what I'm doing now." He mumbled.

"It would. I remember when we first met. You had long hair and baby fat." John chuckled, poking Phil's stomach which earned him a small smile. "And you were such a loudmouth asshole. You didn't care what anyone thought. You weren't trying for anyone but yourself. That's what I loved about you. What I miss about you. You were such a punk. No pun intended." John chuckled softly, grabbing a damp paper towel and wiping Phil's face.

Phil laughed a little at the end of John's statement. Even in a serious situation like this, John managed to make Phil laugh. It was why they were so perfect for each other.

John pecked Phil's lips. "Babe, what your father did to you was horrible. But you know what? Fuck him. Fuck Chris. Fuck everyone. I love you. I love every single thing about you. You may never forget what happened, but focus on what's going on right now. You're strong. You've always been proud of who you are. Those tattoos show just how strong you are. Be proud to be straightedge. Be proud you didn't end up like your father. Or that you didn't become a bitch like me. Don't dwell on the bad." He said sternly, but softly.

Phil just nodded silently, and smiled ever so slightly. He trusted John with all he had. He always took care of John. And now John was stepping up and taking care of Phil. John pulled Phil to his feet. He cleaned him up, fixing his hair. Phil looked tired and weak, which was how he felt. He looked at John, and sluggishly petted his hair before he murmured,

"Baby, you're my savior."

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><p>That night, they laid together. John sat up and and watched Phil sleep. He smiled to himself and traced his thumb along Phil's lips, brushing his lip ring. Phil's hair wasn't gelled and it was tousled. He looked so peaceful like that. John bit his lip and sat up straight out of Phil's arms, taking both his lover's wrists in his lap, as Phil was curled up on his side.<p>

John slowly began to unravel the wraps on Phil's wrists. He gently pulled the wrapping from the scarred wrists and looked at the limbs. So marred, the tattoos ruined with streaks. He kissed each and every one of them. Phil's eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at John. They both looked at the wraps, then looked at each other.

_Do it. _Phil said with his eyes.

John opened his mouth to say something but he changed his mind. He took the wraps and tossed them in the trash. Phil would never hide. Never again.

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><p><strong>...so. Did you enjoy my angst? XD <strong>

**Review please. It makes me happy. And a happy writer is a better writer. ;D**


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